Pain for Jayne
by curi
Summary: From prompts in my Pain For Jayne table. Jayne/River themes. 20 ficlets. Last edited 08/2012.
1. Just Desserts

**Just Desserts**

This was written for the first prompt from my "Pain for Jayne" table: Rain.

* * *

He'd been gone far too long. Someone woulda seen that by now. Mal would be plannin' one of those flashy rescues an' the moonbrain'd do her thing and he'd be outta this _gorram_ cage before they took another finger.

He'd told Mal it was a bad idea to set down here. The people here had cause to remember him, but it sure as _go se_ weren't like Canton. Everything had gone smooth and shiny on his job here, except for all of 'em had seen his face and knew his name – his _real_ name.

Cap'n hadn't listened, 'course. Told Jayne he weren't like to be needed off-boat anyway. Said he'd draw too much attention and left him to guard Serenity. That evening, after the job, Mal'd invited him off to the local bar.

As time passed in the cell, he began to worry. Of _course_ she weren't coming. Not after how they'd parted. Not after what he'd done. He sighed.

* * *

It weren't like he'd _meant_ to get so drunk. He'd just been relaxin' and stopped rememberin' to count. An' then _she'd_ walked into the bar. She was all manner of shiny: small, dark hair, legs that just refused to stop. An' he'd caught her eye an' she'd slipped into his lap 'fore he could blink.

He'd had one hand tangled in her hair and another runnin' up her thigh when he was surprised by a fist crashing into his jaw, followed by a pained moan. He'd blinked at his own pain and jerked his head from left to right, searching for the _hun dan_ what was interruptin' him an' his… girl.

Oh, _wo de tian_. He'd looked at the body in his lap. The dark hair had faded to red, the legs shortened impossibly, her breasts inflated like balloons in an instant. He swallowed an' tried to clear the haze in his mind.

_River_. He'd thought he was holding _River_. Yet there she was, standing beside him, an' the body in his arms…

He was humped. He'd gone an' screwed up the best thing ever happened to him an' he knew there weren't no way to get it back.

Best to get it over with all at once, then. He swallowed again an' hoped the Shepherd's God would forgive him for what he was going to say next.

"I do somethin' got yer panties in a twist, little girl? You should know better'n to play with men'r bigger'n you. Ain't nothin' but a real woman," he added, nodding toward the redhead "can take a man like me."

The look in River's eyes made his whole body tense, tightening his hands around the redhead, who giggled at his apparent lust. Some part of Jayne snorted at the concept. Weren't no possible way he could talk his body into relaxin' enough for that for a good long time.

River's _eyes_. He wanted to throw the redhead across the room an' pick his girl up an' take her back home an' apologize to her with everything he had. He wanted to invent new ways to say he was sorry an' cry in her hair an' prove to her that he loved her. He looked away before he lost control.

Mal's face across the booth was harder'n he'd ever seen it. His eyes fixed on Jayne for a moment before he slid out of the booth, put an arm around River's waist an' his other hand on his gun, an' strode purposefully from the bar.

The woman in his lap wiggled against Jayne, trying to get his attention. Startled, he swiftly pushed her away, threw a few credits on the table and ran from the bar. He weren't headed anywhere in particular, didn't pay attention to the streets around him. It weren't until he hit a dead end that he stopped to catch his breath. And everything went black.

* * *

He'd _told_ Mal these folk knew his face. He'd warned him it weren't as safe as their contact promised. He tried to tell himself it weren't his _gorram_ fault everything'd gone to hell.

His captors had woken him by breaking his left pinkie finger before cutting it off. They didn't ask him questions, didn't yell at him, didn't say nothin' at all. They did laugh, though. Their laughter was hard an' bitter. They meant to make him hurt. An' when he hurt so badly he couldn't feel at all, they were going to leave him in the desert to die.

He moaned. They'd taken his right pinkie two hours after the left. He'd watched them feed it to the mongrel that whined at their feet. He'd never be able to touch River again, not like he had.

He shook his head vigorously to stop the thoughts. River weren't his no more. He'd gone an' lost her, hurt her till she'd understood he was no good. She wouldn't want him to touch her like he had, even if he c—.

An' then she was in front of him. She'd slipped in silent an' steady an' he couldn't stop the expression that crossed his face: relief an' hope an' love an' agony an' horror. She looked him in the eyes an' grinned.

The sight near stopped his heart cold. She'd promised she could kill him with her brain, an' the feral look in her eyes had him convinced she could. She slunk closer to the where he was chained against the rusty wall, stopped just a breath from his bare chest. _Gorram_ if he weren't still turned on by her so near him.

She tilted her head up to him, a perfect imitation of her stance when they'd first kissed. Her eyes were hard as she murmured mockingly, "Copper for a kiss?"

An' then she was gone. She'd taken her home an' her family an' left him to the end he deserved. He wouldn't have believed she'd been there at all if it weren't for the knife she'd slid into his right hand. The single bullet of the exiled sailor, was the blade.

And his chest shuddered as he listened to the sound of the rain.


	2. The Blessings

**The Blessings**

Prompt: August

_Yeah, the blessings, at the moment I was most alone  
and aimless as a full-time fool, the joke was on me.  
I got all those birds flying off of that tree, and that's a blessing._  
_— "The Blessings", Dar Williams_

* * *

It was a yellow-blue August evening, warm and breezy. The sunrays, slanted low, bathed the Sihnon plateau pre-dusk gold. His boots crushed the grass beneath them, the same grass that looked so soft under River's bare feet. She was radiant, though whether it was the lighting or her joy or the life surrounding her, over and above and inside, he couldn't know.

It had been hard on them all, asking a new preacherman to do the job that should have been Book's. The new one wasn't a part of the ceremony the way Serenity's Shepherd would have been. This man of God had never spoken to any of them of special hells, didn't seem to have any dark secrets, had never let his hair down (or up, as it were) in front of them. He'd never given Kaylee strawberries or lifted weights with Jayne or gotten shot because of them. He was there to do a job, to fill a role only, and Book's absence weighed heavy on those gathered.

There weren't many of them, not as many as there should've been for such an event. Kaylee wore her pink gown ("Not much call to wear it in the black," she'd said. "This may be the only chance for a long while."); Simon, standing next to her, a dark suit.

Mal'd flat-out refused such formal attire, though he did pull out a dress shirt and a pair of trousers no one had known existed. Inara, on his arm, wore an understated and modest violet number; Zoë, on Mal's other side, stood tall in the dress she'd worn after Miranda.

The peaceful setting seemed surreal. Insects chirred in the grass and rabbits moved not fifteen feet away. The hike to reach the location River had chosen led them through a thriving wood. A yearling fawn had bounded across the path in front of them. Squirrels had scampered about, collecting nuts and hiding in the trees. Birds called to each other, blue jays and sparrows and hawks, while the party progressed in silence.

As they emerged onto the plain, a hawk had made a graceful dive, talons extended. They stopped to watch as it rose again with a ground squirrel in its grip. No one spoke; no one dared detract from the glorious majesty of the moment.

It was the abundance of life, he supposed. Life didn't thrive like this in the black. He thanked River with his eyes for bringing them to this place. Even if she hadn't done it for him, for any of them, it gave them all something they'd been missing: a sense of life's utter simplicity and beauty.

Jayne's attire had drawn stares from Mal and Simon. Even Inara's eyes had widened at the tailored black suit over the light blue t-shirt he wore. He felt uncomfortable in the outfit, but the salesgirl had insisted that the blue matched his eyes and the whole getup made him look ten kinds of handsome.

He'd had River on his mind over the months he'd saved his cut from their jobs to afford the outfit. He'd squirreled away his trim money and spent less on liquor than any grown man ought.

He'd seen her standing in the middle of the Reaver bodies, like the statue of a goddess from Earth-that-was. He'd seen her crying on Miranda, praying to be a stone. He'd seen her big brown eyes and her long, dark hair and her powerful legs. He'd seen the printout of the brain scan from Ariel (_wo de ma_, _Ariel_). He'd seen all of those things when he was near a whorehouse or in a bar. And he'd saved his credits.

He'd dreamt of her in his arms and woken himself crying. He'd dreamt of Ariel and woken pointing a gun at his head. He'd dreamt of the dance in the Maidenhead and woken with so great a desire, the pain drew a whimper. The whores were long gone from the wall of his bunk; the t-shirt she'd sliced, he kept under his pillow.

River danced across the plain to a music only she could hear, her simple yellow dress twisting with her movements and the breeze. When she stilled, her face was flushed and a joyful smile lit her face. The crown of braids and roses Inara had fashioned rested on her head more regally than any a queen had ever known. River gracefully moved to take her place, in front of the preacher who wasn't theirs, where her fiancé waited.

And when the last words had been spoken and the bride and groom led the party away, hand in hand, Jayne felt the most exquisite pain in his chest. He noticed the hawk with its meal and wished it a long life. River had never once looked at him the way she looked at the man holding her hand. Jayne hadn't known until it was too late; he hadn't known he loved her until he had lost.

He'd thought about leaving Serenity. If she weren't near, maybe he could forget. That was a lie, of course. The scar across his chest would keep her with him always. Better to stay and be sure she was safe, that her family was safe. Better to stay and be sure that he was safe.

He paused and took one last look at the plain. The fireflies were out, dancing and flickering as they sought their partners. He wanted to remember this when he was on his home in the black. In his mind, he thanked River again for this place. She'd brought them here and given them a piece of home. She'd chosen this place and shown them another kind of serenity.


	3. Uninvited

**Uninvited**

Prompt: Soap

_Like anyone would be,  
I am flattered by your fascination with me.  
Like any hot blooded woman,  
I have simply wanted an object to crave.  
But you, you're not allowed.  
You're uninvited—  
An unfortunate slight.  
— "Uninvited", Alanis Morissette_

* * *

He smelled Mal. He kept his back to the entrance and continued cleaning his girls. He wasn't going to turn for anyone but the moonbrain. And she smelled like soap, not old leather.

The smell of old leather had, until very recently, been benign—even vaguely comforting—for Jayne. It was the smell of honest work, of a dusty world with which he was familiar.

It wasn't his scent, he knew. Jayne smelled of sweat and sex and the oil he used on his girls—moisture to Mal's drought.

And she was caught in between. She was like one of them worlds the terra-forming left swinging between lots and lots of rain—_monsoons_, she had called them—and the dry seasons.

He couldn't imagine anyone choosing to live on a world of dry seasons. The grit caked everything, everywhere. It wore on a body's weapons and made it hard to breathe.

He'd prefer the wet seasons. At least they were honest, didn't trick you to seeing things weren't there. They were dangerous and loud, but they had a purpose. They kept things _alive_. And surely a River needed the rains.

It had seemed so simple at first. He'd rushed in, unapologetic as ever, and she'd soaked up his attention. Perfect, it had seemed.

And then she'd started to dry out a bit. She'd held off, responded less enthusiastically to his flirting. He'd thundered at her in confusion until she told him about Mal's interest. Then he'd retreated to rumble in the distance.

River warned him against fighting with Mal. Mal was less dangerous to the others; they were more loyal to him. A fight would not end well for Jayne.

She promised to end the waiting soon, to choose one path or the other. She'd taken care to spend time equally with him and Mal, "gathering data," she said. She wouldn't let him kiss her, but since he hadn't smelled Mal on her, he figured that was okay: the Cap'n wasn't touching her either.

He was disgusted with Mal. First there was Saffron, who turned out to be psychotic, but that wasn't the point. Then, he'd had a perfectly good woman in Inara—a whore, sure, but she loved him—and he'd ruined that, too. Now he had to mess with the one woman with whom Jayne had a shot.

He would ruin her, too, of course. He wanted to save her so badly; he looked at her like another war for which to volunteer. River'd have to see that; after all, she _was_ a genius reader.

He started at the touch on his shoulder and found himself looking into _her_ eyes. The smell of soap was absent: the suffocating dryness of Mal invaded Jayne's senses.

He turned his attention back to his girls, loyal and true, and waited for her to leave him in peace.


	4. Beggars Would Ride

**Beggars Would Ride**

Prompt: Stale

* * *

The Alliance didn't stop coming, not even after Miranda. They spent two years narrowly avoiding death. Mal lost a couple of toes. Inara earned a scar across her back. It was the knife to Kaylee's belly that did it, though.

The soldier who killed River Tam's unborn nephew died slowly. She and Jayne made sure of that. After the captive was dead, the tiny assassin disappeared into her bunk.

With so many grieving bodies on board, anyone who noticed River's absence might have thought it natural for her to insulate herself from their emotions. When the bereaved Kaylee and Simon did notice, a few days after the incident, their grief slipped into anger at the small woman, the cause of all their troubles.

Jayne held Kaylee's hand through the surgery that saved her life. River was Simon's _mei-mei_; Kaylee was his. Everything connected. She told him of her anger, at River and Simon and Mal for putting her in danger, putting her baby in danger. Jayne's chest ached for them all.

He entered River's quarters without knocking. She would know it was he, wouldn't kill him on impulse. They'd come to trust each other, developed a quiet respect between them.

The room was a disaster zone. Broken plastic containers lay where they had fallen after shattering against the walls, the contents scattered amidst the casualties of River's rage. She was curled on her bed, in the farthest corner.

Jayne thought she was asleep. He carefully picked his way through the rubble and smoothed her disheveled hair. She shook under his hand, and his concern increased. He settled himself next to her on the mattress and pulled her tiny form into his lap.

She began to sob, then, against his chest. There were words in her tears, but he didn't understand them. He held her steady against him.

When her tears subsided, he felt her body tense. When she tried to push him away, he held her more tightly. She struggled in his arms, then began to hit him in earnest.

This was what she needed, he knew. She needed to hit someone. She needed another body to absorb her pain; the broken objects in her quarters only released the sorrow into the air she breathed.

He let her use him. So saturated was he in her frustration that he barely felt the first broken rib; the second, however, got his attention. His vision grew blurry, though whether from his tears or his blood he was unsure. And when she exhausted herself and lay her head on his lap, he waited through her weeping.

* * *

He must have lost consciousness, he realized upon waking, because his chest and face had been bandaged. He was still in River's quarters, though the space bore a stark contrast to the last time he had seen it. There was no evidence of her internal war; very little evidence, in fact, that she occupied the room at all.

She sat at the foot of the bed, sketching in her book. She looked up, studying his face. It seemed to take her a moment to register his wakefulness; when her eyes rested on his, she jumped.

Jayne let out a hoarse cough and tried to grin. She had been _very_ angry, he realized, wincing. Next time, he'd have to rethink the decision to play punching bag.

The relief in her eyes disappeared as her gaze flicked through emotions in an instant: guilt, pain, fear, resolve.

"No next time." Her voice was firm.

"Ah, hell, Riv; it ain't like you're never gonna get angry again. You gotta deal with it, less'n you wanna end up like your brother with a stick up yer _pi gu_." His eyes told her he was teasing. He was rewarded with a meager smile that faded after an instant.

"I've packed," she said suddenly, studying her hands intently. "When we dock, when you can move, I'm getting off."

Jayne started to sit up at her announcement, which proved a bad move. His eyes watered as he sank back down and he couldn't hold back the groan. River was at his side in a flash, one hand squeezing his, the other stroking his forehead.

When he could think again, he glared at her. "What in the _ruttin' hell_ makes you think you can do that? What makes you think the crew'll let you go?"

"I can hurt them. They fear me," she said, her eyes meeting his.

"And what makes you think _I'll_ let you go?" he demanded.

Though anger and determination sped his heart and lungs, he was nauseous with the knowledge that she was going to leave him. She had already decided. The argument was a formality.

"Ariel," she said. "The knife before Miranda. Every argument with Mal. The fear in your eyes."

He sucked in a breath, the pain this time nothing to do with his physical injuries.

"That was a low blow, little girl," he growled, "and not hardly a good enough answer. Them was two years ago an' more. Any fear you see's got nothin' to do with you stayin', _dong ma_?"

Her eyes filled with tears and his big paw of a hand rose to cradle her cheek. "It ain't fair." His voice was hoarse. "Ain't fair you gettin' off an' leavin' us. Leavin' _me_. Not after I done told you I love your crazy self."

She looked at him quizzically, almost teasing. "You haven't said anything of the sort, Jayne Cobb. You must be delusional." She put a hand to his forehead as if feeling for a fever. "Do you feel ill? Do you see pink elephants on parade?" Her eyes danced now, merry for the moment.

"You're the one what sees things, little crazy girl. You tell me what I see," he grunted, unwilling to let this go. It seemed important that she know—that he be sure she understood.

She searched his eyes for confirmation of the invitation into his thoughts. He nodded, saying, "Just what I see right now. Don't go pickin' around and openin' boxes what don't concern you."

She gave him a small, heartfelt smile in acknowledgement and gripped his hand tighter. Her eyes seemed to focus beyond him, beyond Serenity or anywhere in the 'verse.

He concentrated on her, so she could see herself as he did: dangerous and sparkling new and soft and smooth and hard and clean and warm and whole and cracked and beautiful and all manner of shiny.

She gasped and her vision focused on him. Her eyes shone as they filled again with tears. "You love me," she whispered.

Jayne snorted at the look of awe on her face. "Ain't that hard to believe, little girl. Any man don't is crazier'n y—"

He never got to finish his sentence. Her lips on his drove any words he might've had straight out the airlock. She was soft, hesitant, gentle. It hurt like hell, but he wouldn't've stopped her for anything.

He felt her grin against his lips. She sat up, looking extremely self-satisfied. "Kissed her on the lips. Never kisses 'em on the lips. Kissed _her_ on the lips."

"Now wait just a minute, little girl," he protested. "Was you kissed me. I ain't in any condition to be kissin' on nobody."

"Weren't nobody, Jayne Cobb. Was River Tam. You _love_ her." As she teased, her face shone with a joy he fully expected to blind him.

"Yeah, well, 's too bad y'had to beat me to a pulp a'fore I toldja. Gonna haveta wait to do any serious kissin'." He raised an eyebrow. "Or other stuff."

He watched her smile melt off her face like them creepy clock paintings from that Doll feller.

"Oh, don't start on that leavin' _go se_ again. You can't leave just when you get yerself in love," he insisted, though the nauseous feeling was back.

She dropped her eyes and released his hand. Her voice was small. "Can. Must. Will."

"Well'n, I'm comin' too," Jayne declared.

River whispered, "No, you aren't. You must stay for the family. Be a faithful watchdog, a good Nana for Wendy and her brothers." She ignored his confusion. "I'm going back to the Lost Boys."

Jayne growled at the word "boys." "Y'ain't goin' nowhere without me'n you _gorram_ well better get used to it. You're _my_ River. I ain't sharin'."

River sighed and curled into his good side. "It is futile to argue with you. Rest for full recovery, Jayne-bear-Nana-dog."

Smiling at the image of himself as a bear, he followed her advice and slipped into sleep.

* * *

A week later, River had declared Jayne fit to stalk about Serenity as usual. He tried to be pleased, though, truth be told, the rest of the boat still felt like a funeral attended by the dead. He was reluctant to end his time with River, recovering in her bed. Even as he suspected she was nursing him out of guilt (_after all, she hadn't said _she_ loved _him), he basked in her attention.

He'd spent time every day with his _mei-mei_, as much as he could handle before her sorrow suffocated him. He didn't tell her about River (who stubbornly refused to unpack her cases, despite his requests), and Kaylee didn't ask.

The night before the firefly set down on Persephone, River and Jayne made love for the first time. Wrapped around her, in her bed, he'd wondered if they were moving too fast. River, however, had been insistent; besides, he reasoned, he couldn't exactly turn her down when she had her hands down his trousers.

Despite his reservations, their coupling had been sweet and slow. He growled his love for her into her ear repeatedly, and he'd felt her thrill beneath him.

When Jayne woke in River's bed, he was alone. Serenity was quiet around him—the sound of a docked boat. Filled with a sudden dread, he threw himself from the bed; his feet tangled in the sheets, and he fell on his face. He grunted and turned his head toward the door, where River had left her suitcases since packing them.

They were gone.

He lay there for a long time, slow tears leaking onto the floor. At length, he stood and inspected the room. He found the note taped to the ceiling above the bed. When he opened it, a second piece of paper fell out.

He read her words first:

_Jayne Cobb, I love you.  
_Do not_ look for me. I will return to you. I promise. Enclosed you will find my reciprocation of the gift with which you presented me.  
Until we meet again, River (Tam) Cobb_

He set her note aside, careful not to smudge the writing with his tears. Even if he didn't know what all them words had meant, he would've got the gist by the way she'd signed her name. He unfolded the second paper slowly.

He stared at the man on the page. The figure looked familiar, like a version of _him_. He smiled involuntarily at the Jayne Cobb his River had captured. This was her love letter, her way of saying that she saw him as he did her. She _loved_ him as he loved her.

He still didn't understand why she'd gone and left him. As he carefully refolded the papers, his eye caught something he'd missed:

_P.S. No trim, Jayne Cobb. If I can make do with my hands, you can make do with yours._

He snorted a choked laugh and continued reading:

_P.P.S. If you see him, tell the old you he finally won._

Victory had never tasted so stale as at that moment.


	5. El Condor Pasa

**El Condor Pasa**

Prompt: Silver

_I'd rather feel the earth beneath my feet.  
Yes, I would, if I only could.  
I surely would.  
— "El Condor Pasa (If I Could)", Simon and Garfunkel_

* * *

"River, c'm'ere. I think yer holster's twisted in the back."

The younger woman glanced at Kaylee, who giggled. River rolled her eyes and moved closer to Jayne.

"I am positive the gun belt needs no adjusting, Jayne. Honestly, you're worse than Simon, the way you fuss," she grumbled.

Jayne glanced up at River's boob of a brother, standing beside Kaylee on the catwalk. The little pansy had the nerve to grin smugly down at the mercenary, pleased to have been out-boobed for once. Jayne smirked when Kaylee noticed the exchange and dragged Simon off to a place where the doctor couldn't tempt fate.

"Yeah, well, I ain't so sure 'bout that armored vest. Just let me get some peace of mind, okay? I ain't gonna be there to save yer crazy back end," he said, palming the rear in question, "an' I gotta make sure it comes back to me safe'n shiny."

River pouted at him. "Just the _gluteus maximus_? Thought you'd miss other parts more."

Mal's annoyed voice cut into their flirting. "Jayne, if you don't take your hands off my albatross, I'm gonna get Simon back down here to drug you again."

Jayne sent Mal a dirty look.

"And don't think you can take us all with that leg of yours. The 'tross is on the clock, and she's takin' orders from her Captain. I tell her to drop the old man in the wheelchair, she'll do it. And if you're lucky, she won't break the other leg in the process."

Jayne snorted at River's serious nod and answered her question, ignoring Mal.

"Nope," he deadpanned. "Ain't got no use for any of the rest of you. Well, no. I gotta think on that. Back up a bit."

River took a step back and he appraised her. To think he'd almost lost all of this seekin' a fistful of silver. He shook his head at his idiocy before continuing.

"Well, I 'spose there's other bits're important, too." He reached toward her hips and she stepped into his grasp. "I couldn't handle it if'n you didn't bring these back," he added, hands on the guns at either side of her body.

It was River's turn to snort as she shook out of his grasp. She gave him a wicked grin before sauntering toward the mule, exaggerating the swing of her hips.

She'd nearly reached the vehicle when she abruptly turned and flew back toward him to plant a firm, heated kiss on his mouth. "So you don't forget me," she whispered.

And she was in the mule and gone before he got a chance to tell her that weren't likely to ever happen.

* * *

He was lifting his hand weights in the bay when the call came in. It was Kaylee whose hand touched his arm gently. He looked at the tears in her eyes and knew.

"She ain't comin' back, huh?"

"Cap'n didn't say that," Kaylee protested, her voice hopeful, even if her eyes betrayed the truth.

"What _did_ he say?" Jayne suddenly felt very old and very tired.

"He—" Kaylee's voice broke. "He said, 'Tell Jayne that River said she loves him.'" The tears spilled from her eyes, then, and she wrapped her arms around Jayne and sobbed.


	6. Canon in D

**Canon in D**

Prompt: Capture

Title references the famous composition by Johann Pachelbel, commonly played in the key of D major at weddings (and loathed by string quartets the world over).

* * *

He sat in the head, studying the capture. Kaylee'd insisted on recording every minute of his "Big Day." Her enthusiasm had made him smile, though her future as a filmmaker was pretty well doomed.

His stomach lurched violently as the screen moved from Kaylee's own face to Simon, who gave a small smile and waved. Kaylee said something unintelligible from off-screen and the Core-bred boy went scarlet just before the images swung rapidly around and the screen went black.

In an instant, Kaylee and Simon reappeared again, slightly disheveled. The doctor sported sported strawberry-red lipstick, and Jayne laughed at his apologetic expression.

"Sorry 'bout that, Jayne. Dropped the capture'n then I had to help Simon with—" Before Kaylee could tell Jayne exactly what kind of help she'd given Simon, the doctor interrupted, pointing off-screen. Another dangerous transition (Kaylee was gonna have to find some kind of way to work this skill into their jobs. Her captures were all manner of weaponful.) and a dressed-up Inara came into focus, pulling a grumbling Mal, surprisingly well groomed, behind her.

The Companion smiled at him. "Kaylee says you'll be too distracted to notice any of us today, but she wants to prove to you that Serenity's crew _can_, as she put it, 'clean up just's good as any of them _gorram_ society core bitches.'"

Mal gaped at her, lookin' dumb as usual. "Thought you were mannered, Ambassador. Mannered folk don't talk like that on a man's wedding day." He addressed the screen. "Jayne, I want to apologize for my woman, here. She's got quite a mouth on her. Can't hardly take her out in public without some kind of ruckus. I always end up with a sword through my gut and cows on my boat."

Inara glared at Mal and Jayne chuckled. Cap'n just didn't know when to let a thing go.

Zoe was the next into the mess, holding a curly-haired little girl's hand. The tall woman eyed the capture suspiciously, the child beside her displaying the same expression. From off-screen, Kaylee beckoned Autumn closer.

"Say 'Hi' to your Uncle Jayne, kiddo," she coaxed, and giggled as Autumn inspected the capture, trying to find the mercenary.

The screen went black again and jerked into a new location. The cargo bay was strung with white mesh and fairy lights. Kaylee's face appeared upside down as she whispered, "I did this myself. Well, Simon helped. A little. Do you think she'll like it?"

She went silent as "Wedding March" filtered through the room and the ceremony began. The capture was steady through the whole affair, mostly focused on Jayne and his bride, though occasionally on Mal, who looked uncomfortable officiating at a wedding. When the long boring bits came up, the view panned around the room, taking in the onlookers' reactions.

Jayne started. He took the recording back a few frames and paused it. _There_. He hadn't seen River all day, hadn't seen her once in the week since he'd announced his engagement. But there she was, up on the catwalks. For someone who wasn't attending a wedding ceremony, she looked awful dressed up. Right pretty in the flowy black number she had on. The capture focused in on her face, tear-streaked and puffy.

Jayne's heart ached as he watched her through Kaylee's eyes. The small woman looked to be in mourning. As Mal pronounced him a married man, the capture swung back to the new couple, but not before Jayne caught the stricken look on River's face.

A knock on the door made him jump. "_Bao bei_, are you okay in there?"

His voice faltered as he called back, "Out in a minute, baby."

He went back to the still of River's face. _Gorram_ his idiot self to hell! He'd gone and convinced himself she couldn't want a thing to do with him; went and got married to remove the temptation. And there the girl was, cryin' over him.

Jayne knew this wouldn't end well. He folded the capture into his shirt and went to the woman he'd married, wishing she were the woman he loved.


	7. Into the River to Drown

**Into the River to Drown**

Prompt: Music

_There were two sisters of County Clare.  
(Oh, the wind and rain.)  
One was dark and the other was fair,  
(Oh, the dreadful wind and rain.)  
And they both had a love of the miller's son,  
(Oh, the wind and rain.)  
But he was fond of the fairer one,  
(Oh, the dreadful wind and rain.)  
So she pushed her into the river to drown  
(Oh, the wind and rain.)  
and watched her as she floated down.  
(Oh, the dreadful wind and rain.)  
— "Wind and Rain", as performed by Gillian Welch on the _Songcatcher_ soundtrack_

I hate songfic. Well and truly loathe it. That said, this might qualify as songfic, but, in my defense, I probably wrote it before I knew what songfic was.

* * *

Jayne sat in the mess, tuning his guitar. He'd figured out how he was gonna tell her. He thought he'd sort of ease into it. He glanced at the clock. _No time like the present_, he thought, and took a deep breath.

"Come all ye fair and tender ladies: Take warnin' how you court your men…"

As if on cue, she stepped into the room, her sketchbook and pencils in hand, and settled at the table. She was so dainty looking. He'd learned not let those looks deceive him a long time back. River Tam was powerful'n dangerous'n got him all sorts of un-calm.

"…I wish I were a tiny sparrow and I had wings and I could fly…"

Maybe he couldn't picture himself as a tiny sparrow, but he could see her flyin' through those doors to face down a roomful of Reavers.

As they'd waited for their death to smash through the blast doors, he'd allowed himself to think on River Tam, the tiny sparrow-girl who'd sacrificed herself tryin' to save her family, for the first time.

"…Come all ye fair and tender ladies…"

As he ended the song, he checked his mental set list and transitioned seamlessly.

"'T'was in the merry month of May when all gay flowers were bloomin'…"

Once he'd started thinkin' on her, he found he couldn't stop. The way she'd stood after the doors opened, after the Alliance busted through the wall... that image _was_ his dreams now. And her crazy talk, her nonsense, had become a kind of music to him.

"…So, slowly, slowly she gets up and to his bedside goin'…"

They'd become a team since Miranda, effortlessly thwarting threats to Serenity and her crew. Mal didn't get shot half so often with River on jobs, and when she wasn't bein' a sexy weapon, she was keepin' them all in the black. Jayne decided he loved the young woman who was keepin' him alive, and he figured it was time she knew it and they made their partnership official.

"…She said, "Young man, you're dyin'…"

He watched River as she cocked her head, focusing intently. Maybe she was going to dance for him. He'd heard about her dancin'.

"…No better, no better I never will be, 'til I have Barbara Allen…"

And suddenly it was her voice to his playing, though she continued her drawing as she sang:

"…Don't you remember last Saturday night, when I was at the tavern? You gave your drinks to the ladies there, but you slighted Barbara Allen…"

Jayne felt like kicking himself. He'd wanted to impress her with folk songs what had been passed down since Earth-that-Was; didn't even think about them being all about people who died and broke each other's hearts. Well, he was in it now.

"…He reached up his pale white hands, intendin' for to touch her…"

River's voice meshed with his as they sang.

"…She turned away from his bedside…"

Jayne's voice died as River looked him full in the face for the first time.

"…And said, "Old man, I won't have you."

_Wo de ma_, she was calm when she was breaking hearts. Just like when she was stoppin' them in monsters' chests.

The mess went silent. River held Jayne's eyes as she gathered her things, then left the mess.

Jayne sighed and went back to his mental set list.

"There were two sisters of County Clare—Oh, the wind and the rain…"

* * *

_ The lyrics quoted are all from traditional English-language songs on the Songcatcher soundtrack. They are, in order:_

"Fair and Tender Ladies" _(performed by Rosanne Cash)_  
"Barbara Allen" _(performed by Emmy Rossum)_  
"Barbara Allen" _(performed by Emmylou Harris)_  
"Wind and Rain" _(performed by Gillian Welch)_

_(Yes, I know there are two "Barbara Allen"s on the list. That's because there are two on the soundtrack, and the first version, a beautiful snippet sung by Emmy Rossum in one of her earliest performances, deserves equal credit as inspiration._

_Additionally, in the last lyric River sings, she changes the song lyric's word, "young", to the word "old" to suit her own purposes.)_


	8. Isn't It Nice To Know a Lot?

**Isn't it Nice to Know a Lot? (And a Little Bit Not)**

Pain for Jayne prompt: Trash

_Now I know: don't be scared.  
Granny is right; just be prepared.  
Isn't it nice to know a lot!  
And a little bit not…  
— "I Know Things Now", Stephen Sondheim_ (from Into the Woods)

* * *

He'd been dotin' on the moonbrain long enough, he thought. He'd offered himself as a sparrin' partner, even though it was dangerous to his health. For her birthday, he'd built her a platform for dancin' in the bay, so she didn't cut her bare feet. It even folded up so Cap'n No-Fun couldn't complain about it takin' up space.

He'd told his ma about her an' hinted that some socks an' maybe a skirt'n hat'n sweater'n scarf'n mittens might not go amiss. His ma'd suggested _he_ learn to knit, but she'd made clothes that fit the li'l killer woman surprisingly well, given that all she had to go on was the mercenary's descriptions. Jayne maybe hadn't stopped callin' her names, but it was more affectionate teasin' now. Anyone could see that.

'Course, if'n they were seein' it, they certainly weren't gettin' as worked up as they ought. Mal was s'posed to threaten to toss him out the airlock an' Simon was s'posed to turn red and get all sputtery and Inara was s'posed to look at him like a lecherous _hun dan_ and Zoe was s'posed to grab her gun an' wait for Mal's order to shoot. Kaylee'd be torn, wantin' everyone an' everything to be shiny, o'course.

An' _she_ was s'posed to be the one shoutin' at them all, "No, do not allow him to freeze and/or ass—assfixy—assfixer—get smothered in the black without a suit! I love him! Or, y'know, don't mind him so much." An' then she'd turn those big brown eyes on him all full of adoration and then she'd turn'em into puppy-dog eyes and save him from Cap'n an' Simon an' Zoe.

Well, Mal'd have to save him from Zoe, he supposed. Anyway, that's how he figured it was meant to go down. An' everyone'd be happy ever after, once Kaylee trapped Simon into proposin' and Mal an' 'Nara stopped actin' like they was doin' one of those weird dances where the partners never actually touched, but you could just see that all they wanted to do was sex each other up.

Hmm… sex. Maybe that was another reason it was about time to have a talk with the Tam girl. He'd stopped seekin' after trim once he realized he wanted the girl (an' after he'd had an "unfortunate experience" with some paid company tryin' to convince himself he didn't). He'd figured she probably wouldn't take kind to a man courtin' her who was sleepin' with lots of other women. 'Cause females were funny like that.

'Course, if'n he thought on it, (an' he did, 'cause with a girl like the crazy, men's heads snapped to attention—both of 'em.) he weren't comfortable with the idea of her sexin' up anyone else, neither. Every time he did see some two-bit sumbitch what weren't good enough for the likes of her starin' at her an' lickin' his lips, Jayne made _gorram_ sure to catch his eye and snarl. She maybe weren't his, just yet, but that didn't mean he weren't gonna keep trash from tryin' to take her away.

Not that she'd've gone. She was all kinds of too smart for that. Hell, she was too smart for him, and he knew it. She was a ruttin' genius, after all. That's why them Academy sons of whores what was shat out a Reaver's arse wanted her in the first place. If he ever saw another one of 'em, he'd make good an' _gorram_ sure they couldn't resemble nothin' like a human bein' for their funeral.

He'd even figured out what he'd say, best he could. He was gonna apologize for bein' such a ruttin' idiot, first, 'cause he hadn't done that part official-like yet. An' then he'd talk 'bout how sexy it was when she was killin' bad men an' Reavers, which were his own personal closet-monsters. An' then he'd make it good an' clear that he wanted her to be his, for the rest'f his natural life. He weren't such a fan of unnatural lives.

An' he'd also promise never to try to turn her in again an' never to do more'n look at another piece of trim again. An' he'd promise to never kill her brother an' even try to not say mean things to the dumb little Core-bred pansy. An' he'd try not to get too drunk an' do nothin' too stupid. An' he'd sex her better'n anyone else in the 'verse possibly could, 'cause he knew what he was doin', an' he liked her better'n anyone he'd ever sexed before.

He thought that was a pretty good deal, all in all. He weren't never gonna be all fancified an' smooth like the doc, but he figured that weren't what the ship's albatross'd want, anyway. No core-bred, smooth-faced, pimply-arsed little runt could treat her right, given that she was a weapon an' not all Companion-like an' proper'n good at followin' the rules.

Hell, Core men weren't no good at takin' care of their women, anyway. That guy who'd run a sword through Mal (the first time; not that _hun dan_ was tryin' to kill the moonbrain 'cause of her knowin' secrets)—he'd heard Nara'd "blacklisted" him on account of his tryin' to push her 'round.

He'd like to see some Osiris-bred boy try pushin' the little witch around. Well, one 'sides her brother. The boy who did that'd likely end up in all manner of uncomfortable positions, an' not the ones a body got to in bed.

Ooh. Bed. He really had to talk to the girl soon, before he lost his marbles, too. She was probably in the mess. Weren't no time like the present to get a thing done, he figured, even if the thought of it did make a body's stomach feel like Simon'd been cookin' again.

"Simon, that's too mean!"

Well, that was his girl, gigglin' at her brother. He probably oughta wait 'til the doc was out of the room a'fore confessin' his whole soul to Simon's precious _mei-mei_. An' if he listened, he could find out what was makin' her laugh so he had somethin' to talk about an' make her laugh, too.

"River, it's true! And to think he had the gall to call _us_ 'space trash!'"

Huh. Maybe someone else'd had the same idea as Jayne had when them two first got on. That was a long time back, now. A body'd better think long'n hard these days before callin' any of this crew names where Jayne could hear 'em; that was for _gorram_ sure.

"Well, it likely _is_ difficult to gain proper perspective on one's relative level of refuse if one is at the bottom looking up. At the bottom, 'up' looks very similar to 'down.'"

Damn if he had any idea what the girl was sayin', but she sounded all manner of sane'n that suited him just shiny. Didn't like it when she was havin' a spell, 'cause it made him want to go kill all them evil Alliance _hun dan_, an' if he did that, he'd be like to die and never see her again, anyway.

"Well, I think his little crush on you is absolutely horrifying, _mei-mei_. A man his age, so uneducated and uncouth and… ape-like, thinking he could possibly satisfy my brilliant sister—it would be laughable, if it weren't so unsettling."

Well, that was new. There was some other sumbitch tryin' to court the moonbrain? How did that slip past his attention?

"Dearest Simon, I'm sure I may safely promise you never to return Jayne's affection. Can you imagine the progeny? They would be tiny, like me, and completely unintelligent, like the ape-man."

Simon was making disgusted noises as River continued imagining scenarios out of an impossible life with Jayne. He wasn't feelin' so good after hearin' that conversation. He'd been the biggest fool in the 'verse, an' the girl'd known it all along. The whole _crew_'d known it an' they let him look stupid! Well, it weren't like they ever stopped him from lookin' stupid, but this was for their own amusement, and that was _gorram_ different.

Well, if they didn't none of them respect him, maybe it was time to stop carin' 'bout them right back. He'd go off down to his bunk and have a grand ol' time imaginin' how he was gonna show them he didn't give a good _gorram_ what any of the lot of them thought.

* * *

_There is, indeed, a fluffy sequel to this. It's called "Bliss". You can find it on AO3 or my LJ. Check my profile for links._


	9. Troy

**Troy**

Pain for Jayne prompt: Shirt

* * *

It had been six months since Miranda. The Alliance had updated the Tams' warrants to include the rest of Serenity's crew after one month. River and Jayne had been together for the last three.

It wasn't unexpected when the Alliance caught up with them during the first week of the seventh month. River and Jayne fought side by side against the forces sent to take her in. Jayne thought she could have done it alone, but she looked at him with those eyes and said, _I need you to keep me real_, and he wasn't going to fight her.

He saved his strength for killing off them that had cut on an innocent little girl's brain and violated her and made Reavers and were _gorram_ evil. It was their special dance, the one they could perform in public, down in the fray. And Jayne knew that River had to do extra work to protect him when he was by her side, but she'd asked him to be there, and he weren't going to leave her.

So when the bullet hit his left shoulder, tearing through his red shirt, it only momentarily broke his focus on the fight.

But that moment was enough. Jayne watched, terrified, as his _bao bei_ rocked back on her heels as though a wave threatened to topple her. He was a good ten feet from her now, but damned if he weren't going to save his girl.

She'd done in near every Alliance _hun dan_ by now. Jayne killed the one between him and River without thinking or trying, while River effortlessly dispatched of the two remaining enemy soldiers with her blade.

The big man felt his form swell with pride at River's skill even as he reached her, intending to – what? Whoop with victory? Kiss her firm on the lips? Pull her into his arms and down to his bunk before either could say a word?

He never got the chance. River, with the momentum from the other two kills, slashed his neck as he reached for her. The moment his blood hit her hands, her eyes went wide and she screamed.

Lying on his back on the dusty rock, the last thing Jayne heard was the love of his life putting a bullet through her beautiful scarred brain.

The last thing he saw was her hair, coated in blood, as it landed on his open eyes.


	10. Divided by Two

**Divided by Two**

Pain for Jayne prompt: Smile.

_One is the loneliest number, much, much worse than two.  
One is the number divided by two.  
— "One", by Harry Nilsson (as performed by Aimee Mann)_

* * *

"I want out," came her voice in the silence. "This is no longer right."

He sighed and sat heavily in the chair behind him.

"We are too tense to touch. You never call me anything but my name. Your brain is a swamp of resentment. You _resent_ me," River spoke clearly and without emotion from their bed.

Jayne stared at the floor. He wasn't sure she was right about how he felt. He wasn't sure what he felt, anymore.

"When did it go wrong, River? What did I do?" He wanted to save this. Marriage was a commitment for life. Failure, giving up, running scared—they weren't options.

The woman sitting across from him snorted. "It's not that easy, Jayne. I can't look back and point out one moment that started this. Maybe we're just too damaged. Maybe _I'm_ too damaged to be a proper lover. To love back."

He looked at her then, met her eyes. "You don't love me?"

Her gaze was steady. "No, I don't. I don't feel anything but tired. Please, Jayne, let me go."

He was going to protest. He would give her space and time and she would realize they could make it work.

"You're not a hero, Jayne. You're a fighter. You don't save things. You don't save _me_. You can't save this marriage." Her look killed his argument on his lips. "Marriage is union. Union makes multiple parts one. If one desires secession and the other denies it freedom, there is war. Civil war. Massive casualties. Greater resentment."

Her voice hardened to a threat. "I _will_ have freedom. No cost is too great."

He knew she was telling the truth. He didn't think she was right, but killing him wouldn't help her find freedom. And he'd seen what she did to those who stood in her way. Better to give her the divorce now and be here when she figured things out and needed their marriage back.

He looked at her, his blue eyes shiny with tears, and nodded.

Later, Jayne would overhear Kaylee asking River how she could look so happy after leaving her husband. It was cruel, Kaylee would argue. She would slap River, hard, half-hoping to wake her friend from the new madness that had overtaken her.

River would look at Kaylee, tears filling her eyes, dark shadows beneath the brown pools. "Smile 'cause it hurts so much—_too_ much—to weep. Feelings are deadly. Feelings get people killed: Miranda. Wash. Book. The Universe man. You. Simon. Mal. Inara. Zoe. Me. _Jayne_. Better to maintain distance, remain singular. Easier alone."

_Easier alone_, Jayne would think. He would have to agree. _Easier, but just as deadly_.


	11. Shattered

**Shattered**

Pain for Jayne prompt: Soft

* * *

"Cap'n wants to see you, Jayne."

The mercenary nodded in response to Kaylee, avoiding her eyes. He rose from his seat at the dining table to meet Mal in the cargo bay.

"Jayne," Mal greeted him with a terse nod. "You want to explain to me why I got a pilot refuses to leave her quarters and a Companion pilotin' my ship?"

Jayne studied the floor in front of him. "What makes you think I know anythin'? Did you ask the doc about it?"

"I did at that, and I got a confused and concerned older brother for my troubles. According to the good doctor, our little witch has locked him out and won't talk to him," Mal informed the big man, who shifted uncomfortably under the captain's scrutiny.

"Well, d'ja ask yer pilot?"

"Jayne Cobb, I swear by this very boat: if you did somethin' to that girl, you will die a slow and painful—"

"Mal, it weren't me. I didn't do nothin' wrong; I swear on Book's grave!" Jayne interrupted, pleading.

Mal studied Jayne's face for a moment. "No, I don't believe you're the cause of our current predicament. But that don't mean I think you're ignorant as to certain details that factor in. And, yes, I did ask my pilot, who utilized some very colorful language in defense of her privacy." The mercenary's sheepish look confirmed the captain's suspicion that Jayne could be credited for River's extended vocabulary, if nothing else. "But this is my boat, and I need to know why a member of my crew ain't doing her job. And since I have no urge to be killed with a spoon at dinner, I'm asking you, _dong ma_?"

Jayne let out a weary breath and leaned back against a crate, still staring at the floor. "We split last night. Weren't my idea, and I sure weren't expectin' it, but the girl said we were done and I—" He met Mal's eyes. "I couldn't stand to see her cry 'cause of me an' not do nothin' about it. So I left an' I ain't seen her since."

Mal sat down heavily on the box behind him. "She give any clue as to why you all are suddenly partin' company? Late as yesterday afternoon, I was havin' to defend my eyes against some distinctly disturbin' sights in this very bay." He shuddered at the memory. "No Captain Daddy should ever have to see his albatross-girl's hands where hers were."

"Guess she's got a notion that she's 'causin more problems for all of us, bein' involved with me. Said it weren't safe for us, long as we was together," Jayne admitted, dropping his gaze back to the floor.

"Any specifics as to why she might get that thought in her head?" queried Mal, a bit worried.

Jayne sighed. "S'pose it's got somethin' to do with me wantin' to protect her an' her wantin' to protect me an' us gettin' distracted tryin' to protect each other. Leastways, that's what I figured from what she said. Never know what she's not sayin'." He sighed again, stuffing his hands in his trouser pockets.

"An' that's all you know?" Mal confirmed.

"Yeah, Mal. That's all. Look, are we done here?" Jayne asked. "'Cause I've got stuff to do an' I can't do it here."

The captain inspected his mercenary once more before nodding. "Just so long as you don't plan on hidin' in _your_ bunk when we hit land and you're needed for that public relatin' you do so well."

The big man grunted and headed to retrieve his weapons from the mess. All this talk about stuff with Crazy had disturbed his carefully maintained calm. As he headed to his bunk, alone, he resolved that he weren't gonna go soft, that was for _gorram_ sure, moonbrained girl or no. He weren't gonna trail after River like a beaten puppy, and he _certainly_ weren't gonna cry after today.


	12. Candy and Fresh Snow

**Candy and Fresh Snow**

Prompt: Sweet

_I love you, oh, so well, like a kid loves candy and fresh snow.  
I love you, oh, so well, enough to fill up heaven, overflow, and fill hell.  
Love you, oh, so, well.  
— "Oh", Dave Matthews Band_

* * *

Kaylee was sweet like strawberries'n chocolate. Seven types of sin and none for him. He'd realized that after she'd pursued Simon so doggedly an' finally caught the core-bred boy in her arms.

He'd been jealous for a while, seein' as he'd been around a hell of a lot longer than the doctor, but he'd got over it. Damn hard to stay mad around Kaylee. She was the human heart an' soul of Serenity, had an almost psychic connection to the boat's metal heart.

'Course, that weren't nothin' like the psychic connection little River Tam had with the 'verse at large. That girl was all manner of amazin', an' he knew that now.

All his instincts went against keepin' her safe, at first, given the reward an' the craziness an' the fondness for sharp objects an' other kindsa hurtin' him. She'd unsettled him, thrown his balance.

But after Miranda and the Reavers, he'd finally got it figured out. What got him now was how she'd come through the Reavers with not a scratch on her body, but a grenade explosion on a routine job had her next to lifeless.

He cradled her broken body in his big arms as he ran for the boat, covered in the red that kept her alive. He felt sick to remember how she'd said he looked better in the color.

It didn't make no logical sense, when he looked back on the moment later, that he could be starin' into her eyes and runnin' at the same time, but he knew he had.

"Don't you know the best things in the 'verse have a bit of scary to 'em? Ain't nothin' worth havin' can't hurt you someways or another. An' you might be scary an' dangerous, but you're shiny as new-fallen snow, girl, an' I don't know but I might be startin' to love you. So you just hold on to that, that even the biggest _hun dan_ in the livin' 'verse loves you."

He hadn't known it would be the last time he spoke to her, had just wanted to keep her calm and reassured and tied to the livin' side of things. He weren't even sure he had spoken out loud, since he'd been runnin' somethin' fierce, but he knew she'd heard and understood.

"An' there's lots more folk lots better'n me love you, too, an' we all want you to stay here with us. But if'n you gotta go, you just remember what I told you, that we love you. 'Cause love's what brought you to us in the first place, and damned if that love ain't changed ever'one ever spent time 'round it. Hell, I didn't even _believe_ in love a'fore you all got here, not past my family. An' now you're my family, too. You're part of this family an' we love you. You hold on to that."

Her big brown eyes had been full of tears as he laid her down on the infirmary table. He'd crouched in the darkened hallway, watching through his own tears, as she died.


	13. Famous Last Words

**Famous Last Words**

Prompt: Hand.

_And famous last words: "I'm not ready yet,"  
"I won't be gone a minute," and "I won't forget."  
Famous last words.  
If tomorrow never comes, will I ever know that I was in love?  
—"Famous Last Words", Jars of Clay_

When I wrote this, I was looking to break up the monotony of all the other prose pieces. I have a background in writing poetry, so this proved reasonably easy to put together.

* * *

1. close (dance I)

_Hand_. Her hand,  
_there_.

_Gorram feng le_  
woman.

2.

_Woman_. Pantin',  
_livin'_  
in the silence, muscle, bone  
and blood, angelDeath  
in a halo of _hun dan_  
light.

3. moment (dance II)

_Light_. Flimsy fabric  
_shrouds_  
livin' After  
_Life_, twists  
with each grace-full twirl,  
reaching toward the bright  
with one  
hand.

4. el fin (red)

_Hand_. Her hand  
here in mine. River of life  
_better in red_ pastes  
long brown growin' dead  
strands to rough old  
manskin. Her voice  
too quiet, "Very favorite man. _Miles_  
more worthy." Slow ragged  
breath through virgin  
lips. "I call him Jayne.  
Copper  
for a ki…"

5.

_Not breathin'._ We applied  
the cortical electrodes.  
Appreciate you trying. We  
wouldn't be standing here  
if it weren't for… Your sister's  
fine.


	14. Burden of Proof

**Burden of Proof**

Prompt: Still

* * *

Jayne was hot. He could feel the sweat slipping down his spine, along the trough in the center of his back. A fly buzzed in his ear, and he fought the urge to swipe at it. He was playing sniper on this little adventure. Mal'd put a bullet to him if'n he screwed it up 'cause he couldn't keep still.

_Ruttin'_ feng le _woman_. If she hadn't got her so-called "genius" _pi gu_ snatched, he wouldn't have to be on this _gorram_ rescue mission in the first place. He could be playin' cards with… with… Well, he could play Solitaire. 'Course, like as not, Moonbrain'd show up an' want to play along.

He just couldn't catch a break for tryin'. No matter which where he was, the little killer woman ended up there, sooner or later. Came to be he thought the only place to hide from her was in the head. 'Course, that was a'fore the day he'd barely had time to wrap a towel 'round his waist 'fore she dropped from the ceiling.

So, he'd maybe stopped tryin' so hard. It weren't all bad, havin' a pretty little thing trailin' him ever'where. With Wash an' Book gone, entertainment weren't exactly abundant, an' she prob'ly felt it, too. Plus, Crazy was nothin' if she weren't entertainin'. She'd talk a blue streak, if'n a body'd let her.

Mostly he tried to avoid the talkin' bits, though. He barely understood a word came out her mouth. He got her to spot him liftin'. He'd tried playin' cards with her, but it weren't no fun. He couldn't win _cheatin'_, 'cause her smarts was about as sure a cheat as existed.

They'd sparred some, too. Turned out to be good for keepin' her sane, 'cause she was learnin' to control her body better. 'Course, Jayne weren't sure it was so good for him. That time in the Maidenhead weren't nothin' to some of the _go se_ she did.

Mal tried to convince him it sharpened his reaction times, but Mal weren't the one'd been slashed on an' had his _self_ twisted an' his ankle sprained an' his hand broken, not to mention gettin' three concussions an' a handful of weaves. 'Sides, what did Jayne need with "reaction time"? He had size an' weight an' muscle an', best of all, Vera.

An' a crazy woman. She was kinda like a friend, he figured. Not that girlfolk could be trusted well enough to make decent friends for men, but she was loyal as any female was capable of bein'.

He was gonna start teachin' her how to handle his weapons when they got back. A man in Jayne's line of work, he didn't have the longest life. It was important to know his girls'd have a good home with someone could take good care of 'em when he couldn't no more.

_Finally_. The folk that had snatched the little witch entered the clearing, pushin' her in front of them. Well, if'n that weren't a foolish thing to do. He could hardly wait for the girl to go Reaver Slayer on their sorry skins.

Mal was makin' his usually smart-ass chatter at the woman appeared to be the leader of the Crazy-nappers. When the captain addressed the muscle directly behind Moonbrain, Jayne lined the sumbitch in his sights. He was gonna enjoy this. He might've even done it free. 'Course, he was gettin' paid, so no one had to find out.

That _gorram_ fly was back. It landed on his nose as he squeezed the trigger.

It was never quite clear how it had happened. Maybe the fly'd screwed with his aim. Maybe he'd closed his eyes as he fired. Maybe that _feng le_ woman'd moved in the instant before the bullet reached its destination.

It didn't really matter. Jayne's bullet was buried in River's brain as she lay, still and bleeding, on the floor of the clearing.


	15. Powerless

**Powerless**

Prompt: Rag

* * *

They'd got her back. She'd known they were coming, an' she'd told him so. He swore up and down that they couldn't get past him, Mal, _and_ Serenity, an' he'd thought that was that. Shoulda known. That woman was a hellcat when she set her mind to somethin'. Which was a good thing in bed, but when it came to protectin' people…

_Gorrammit!_ He was gonna get her back an' then he was gonna sex her 'till they couldn't neither of them move, an' then he was gonna yell at her for awhile, an' then he was gonna give her the silent treatment. Stupid _feng le_ genius.

What made her think she had the right to give herself up to those filthy Blue-Handed sumbitches? He relied on her. Hell, Serenity relied on her. They _needed_ her an' she'd up an' left them for some kinda wrong-headed noble sacrifice. Mal was a bad influence on her.

Well, that whole thing was near over. They'd got a tip on her location an' they were gonna misbehave somethin' fierce. An' then Jayne was gonna kill every single livin' bein' he could find who weren't his River. He didn't rightly care who they were or why they were there, they were gonna be dead if'n he could find 'em.

The ruttin' Alliance had been movin' the moonbrain regular, they'd found out. River's family in the black never heard about one of the hidin' places 'till the trail was long cold. But this was different. They'd just moved into a new facility on Osiris, of all places, hadn't been there more than a day.

Well, Alliance _go se_ was slick, that was for _gorram_ sure. There weren't a livin' body to make dead in the whole compound. Lot of already-dead ones, though. Looked like the Blue-Handed purple-bellies'd used their Death Sticks on everyone worked there. Well, near everyone.

Jayne recognized River's handiwork in a few of the bodies. One was Alliance, no blue gloves. One looked to be a civilian, maybe an office worker; no blue gloves.

They searched the buildings and found the cell where River must've been stayin'. Weren't nothin' much there to let them know they'd failed her again—just a rag, a bit of torn skirt, and on it the declaration scrawled in blood:

_You can't take the sky from me._


	16. Gone, Everything

**Gone, Everything**

Prompt: Gone

_Gone, going.  
Gone, everything.  
Gone, give a damn.  
Gone be the birds when they don't wanna sing.  
Gone, people—all awkward with their things,  
Gone.  
—"Gone", Jack Johnson_

* * *

He was going. That should make them happy, 'specially the killer woman and the doc. Hell, they'd probably throw a party when he was gone.

Aside from fightin' an' drinkin' an' sexin', leavin' was what Jayne did best. He was an expert; he'd been leavin' places all his life. Rarely, however, did he leave people.

To leave people, a man had to care 'bout them. An' he sure as hell didn't care about a body on that piece of Firefly _go se_. Didn't care 'bout cheerful Kaylee an' how bad she was at protectin' herself; didn't care 'bout 'Nara an' how often she got herself hurt by some man or 'nother.

Didn't care 'bout Zoe, who weren't the same steely warrior woman since Wash'd passed on; didn't care 'bout Mal, who was like to get everyone killed in a second without Jayne to protect 'em; certainly didn't give a rat's furry ass 'bout that fanciable core doctor who weren't never meant to live in the black.

Most of all, he didn't care 'bout River. She'd slashed him an' near twisted his man parts 'til there weren't none he could've shown her, if'n he'd tried. She led 'em all into trouble with her mind-readery foolishness, an' her dumb-ass secrets. He was just as glad to be getting away from her as she surely was to be getting away from him.

Yup. Didn't care two figs one way or t'other if'n a pair of big brown eyes in a brave little bundle of stick-person figure was gonna miss him. 'Cause carin' weren't something he did.


	17. Commencements

**Commencements**

Prompt: With

_So gather up your jackets, move it to the exits.  
I hope you have found a friend.  
Closing time.  
Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.  
— "Closing Time", Semisonic_

_**com·mence·ment****  
**n. A beginning; a start._

* * *

Everyone was with someone now. Mal had 'Nara; Kaylee had Simon; Zoe had Wash's memory. Even the moonbrained girl'd found a body to hold her hand an' kiss her in the night.

_Well, good for her_, Jayne thought bitterly, slamming the crate onto the floor.

Weren't like he'd actually wanted her, anyway. Weren't like he'd _sought_ her attention when she'd fixed it on him. He weren't one to mess about with crazy little girls, that was for _gorram_ sure.

When she'd started watchin' him more, it'd scared the hell out of him. Thought maybe she was fixin' to start slicin' on him again. Just 'cause her brother said she was gettin' better didn't mean she weren't a weapon, plain and simple.

Jayne knew that a weapon could be a friend truer than any, treated right. But he had no idea how to handle one shaped like a pretty girl, an' he'd learned to be wary around unfamiliar weapons. So he'd kept his distance from the crazy after Miranda, not wantin' her to start thinkin' on revenging his actions long past.

But when he'd noticed the way she always seemed to be around when he was in the bay or the mess or fixin' to go on a job, watchin' him, he'd realized that stayin' under the radar weren't working no more. An' when she'd started going on jobs with them, regular-like, sittin' close to him in the mule, he'd been smart enough to think that there were probably dozens of ways she could kill him from that position, an' she was probably remindin' him of that fact.

It weren't until she'd started talkin' to him, showin' up late at night when he was out of his bunk, alone in the mess or the bay, that he'd started wonderin' if maybe he'd been wrong. Maybe she weren't tryin' to remind him she could kill him with her brain. Maybe—Maybe she was tryin' to be _close_ to him.

He weren't sure that thought didn't give him more of an uncomfortableness than her tryin' to kill him. The very idea of himself bein' _intimate_ with Serenity's young albatross near set him off sexin' for a good week. Weren't just her bein' so _gorram_ young, younger'n half his age, but she weren't a normal girl, neither.

Girlfolk were s'posed to be soft'n warm'n steady 'nough that nothin' much would ruffle'em. They were meant for fun and makin' a man feel safe-like for an hour or two, even if a body couldn't trust 'em. Girlfolk _weren't_ meant to be trained assassins could take on a herd of Reavers and live, nor read a man's mind and know his thoughts and feelings.

An' he'd told the little witch just that. He'd told her weren't no way he was gonna be inclined to start somethin' led to sexin' her, and they'd both be better off if'n she'd get that into her genius brain and leave him be. An' she'd looked at him an' laughed in her creepy crazy way a'fore she'd run off, cryin'. An' he'd been satisfied, 'cause that was exactly the kind of crazy he didn't want in his life.

That had been three months ago. After that conversation, Mal and Simon had eased up on him a bit, like they knew what was going on an' what he'd done about it an' they were relieved. The women, though…

He'd complained to Kaylee 'bout the environmental regs in his bunk more'n once in the last three months, 'cause he was always suffocatin' from the heat or freezin' from the cold. Even though she'd told him every time that she'd done adjusted it, he'd started to think that maybe those adjustments weren't as much to his benefit as he'd like.

An' Zoe'd slipped up on two recent jobs, causin' Jayne to take a bullet in his buttocks and another in his foot. Her apologies'd seemed kinda half-assed, to Jayne's mind. Kinda like she weren't sorry at all, he thought.

Now, Inara, she hadn't never really treated Jayne with respect, but he'd noticed that when she went planetside with them, to bars or whatnot, she'd talk to the other whores there, the ones Jayne'd been studyin' on.

When he'd picked his company, the girls'd make him pay before servicin' him. He'd been passin' out in the beds of trim an awful lot lately, wakin' up with a splittin' headache and fully clothed.

At first he'd thought Nara'd just been makin' tea-talk with other working girls, since she weren't Companionin' no more, on account of Mal; that the whores were finally getting smarter about making sure clients paid; that he was gettin' older an' his body weren't handlin' liquor the same way.

When he chewed on it, though, he wondered if all them things he'd been noticin' weren't tied together, whether Nara'd been gettin' friendly with the whores an' they'd pulled some kind of deceitfulness on him.

He was starting to think the women were getting back at him for hurtin' the girl. The girl herself'd been all manner of calm and quiet and polite 'round him since he'd told her off that night.

He'd found himself thinkin' on her less like a kid an' more like a woman, lately, too. She'd been through more'n most grown men in a lot less time, an' he figured that was probably why she seemed so much older than her age, too, when she was in her right mind.

That was pretty much all the time, these days. She seemed fair normal; leastways, as normal as any Alliance-trained genius reader assassin could be. He'd been thinkin' maybe he ought to apologize to her for bein' so harsh-soundin' before. Maybe he could learn a little about how the girl-weapon worked.

_Fat chance now_, he thought, slamming another crate against the floor. The same day as he'd been thinkin' he would finally have that talk with her, she'd come back to the ship with another woman in tow. They was holdin' hands and gigglin' back and forth. She hadn't even looked Jayne on her way past him.

Later, Mal'd told him that they'd hired the new woman on as a new pilot, so River wouldn't have to do double duty as both gun and getaway. ("Don't know how I feel about havin' so many female bodies on board. Get too many of 'em together and they get kinda crazy-like, all at the same time. You're lucky you don't got one of 'em sleepin' in your bunk," Mal'd confided to Jayne conspiratorially.) It turned out that River'n the new girl were sharin' a bunk—and a bed.

The thought didn't get him thinkin' on sex the way it had when Inara'd brought that counselor on board. Made him all kinds of angry, when he thought on it. He was pretty sure he hated the new pilot, though he couldn't say why. Was probably 'cause they were gonna have one hell of a mess on their hands when the girl decided River was too much for her to handle.

After all, a body had to take special care of a weapon like River, an' the new pilot weren't near as good at the job as Jayne would be.


	18. Spaced

**Spaced**

Prompt: Dust

* * *

As he pressed himself against the door separating the airlock from the rest of the boat, Jayne squeezed his eyes closed in terror.

The patterns against his eyelids resolved into the images that had brought him to this, his impending death.

There was River, mid-stride in her flight from his bunk half an hour before. Her hair was all over chaos, her face contorted with pain and sobbing.

There was Mal, face frozen in fury, glaring at Jayne as the big man emerged into the hallway outside his bunk, intending to chase after River.

There was Inara, her eyes spitting fiery darts at him as she closed the door to her shuttle, where the upset young woman had sought quiet and refuge.

Then there was the bay, where Jayne slumped against their cargo, trying to explain to Inara, who crossed her arms in front of her body. Her eyes had just gone wide, looking behind him to the person he supposed would be the captain, his swing of the heavy wrench about to halt the picture.

And then there was the airlock, the door to the deadly black not yet open.

He wondered why River hadn't saved him and remembered that she hadn't been able to save Wash, either.

Without his hands to care for her, Vera'd gather dust. Would River?

Jayne forced his eyes to open and face the future.


	19. Utility

**Utility**

Prompt: Box

* * *

There was something about sex with a reader. It was like she could anticipate him, his movements and intentions. It made the act more a union than any he'd ever paid for.

It had started as a matter of survival. It had been a over a month since Serenity had docked anywhere decent long enough for Jayne to find companionship; the few places they had stayed for more than an hour or two, the company on offer was too scary, even for him. As a result, Jayne Cobb hadn't sexed a live woman in over a month. He was getting twitchy.

When River locked his hatch behind her, he went hot and cold at once. It was a strange dual-vision. He was used to seeing death, when he looked at her, but now he saw Woman blanketing that death. It was too much, he thought, unfair for her to strike when he couldn't defend himself. When she climbed onto the mattress, he shivered with fear and rage and desire and helplessness.

She slapped him. "Cease and desist!" she hissed. "You are damaging _my_ calm. You are so driven by _this_." She grabbed him roughly through his shorts for an instant, and his eyes went wide as he moaned. "Humans are meant to be better at controlling the sexual impulse. Simon's assessment of the girl-man seems correct."

He tried to force his eyes closed when she lifted the hem of her sleeping gown and removed her underwear. She sat at his side, facing him, against the inside wall, one leg stretched straight over his pelvis, and he was paralyzed, staring. She growled in frustration.

"You are not inexperienced. My body cannot accommodate you in its present state." She pulled his hand to her. He felt the hair between her thighs and froze.

He saw River's effort to control her temper. She looked at him as if at a small child and slowly explained, "If you do not come to your full, you will be useless on tomorrow's job. If you let Simon die, I will kill you. Captain Daddy will push me from the nest. Serenity will fall again without warriors to defend her."

She sounded resigned as she assured them both, quietly, "This is necessary. We are saving lives."

It was the tired note in her voice that made him move at last. Save River's whimper of pain when he entered her and his clumsy, but sincere, apology, neither made another sound. When she slipped from his bunk silently, he was already asleep.

Although he and the moonbrain were the only ones who knew, their couplings had evolved into a regular occurrence, a matter of maintenance: like checking the EVA suits or cleaning his guns. Though she assured him pregnancy was impossible, she insisted he use a condom and refrain from visiting "houses of ill repute."

"I will _not_ expose myself to genital infections caught from communal semen repositories," he had been told heatedly.

He had tried repeatedly to give her pleasure during their encounters, but she consistently halted him when she sensed his intentions. One night, several months in, she did orgasm. Though he was pleased, she told him as he rolled off her that it would not happen again. He stared at the ceiling, confused.

Losing control meant trusting him, she explained, and she didn't.

Jayne was stung. Her words hurt more than the blade with which she had attacked him so long ago. He realized he had come to see their interaction as a relationship. He cared for her.

River gasped and shot upright. Jayne's head snapped toward the sound and found her looking at him in horror.

"No," she whispered. "Keep it to yourself. Keep it. Take it back!" She was sobbing, running from the bunk. She didn't bother to close the hatch, didn't try to quiet her voice as she fled through the ship.

He made to follow her when he heard the others stirring, talking low and urgent. He quickly and quietly shut the opening to his quarters. He could hear Mal murmuring with Simon and Kaylee in the corridor above as he doubled over on the floor, vomiting.

He didn't see her alone for months. He kept himself busy, tried not to feel things. He drank more than he had _before_, he supposed, and sought trim less.

Some nights, when he thought of how disgusted he had made her, he thought about eating a bullet. Others, when he was drunk enough, he would reach under his bed for the memories. The underwear from that first time, the shirt she'd sliced, one of her knives from Miranda, a few strands of her hair he'd found in his sheets. He'd hidden them all in a box, tried to box her out the way she had him.

Those nights, he could swear she slipped back in bed with him, her small form warming his larger. He fought morning on those nights, afraid that the new day breaking might be the one to break him.


	20. And Dreaming

**And Dreaming**

Prompt: Grass

This is my very favorite PfJ ficlet. It's been an interesting journey, this revenge mission of mine. Now it's time to give a little back. Enjoy.

_Goes to visit his mommy.  
She feeds him well; his concerns, he forgets them  
and remembers being small,  
playing under the table and dreaming._

_Take these chances.  
Place them in a box until a quieter time.  
Lights down, you up and die.  
— "Ants Marching", Dave Matthews Band_

* * *

i.  
His gaze rested on the grass beneath him. Nothing was green as grass. In the black, a body became lonesome for green.

Green was the color of life. He wanted to chuckle at the irony. The grass smelled sweet. It tickled his nose. An ant climbed onto his face.

He wanted to see the girl. Just once more, another moment with his River, and he could go under. He tried to move his limbs. He coughed and spat blood.

He felt something heavy across his back, something warm and wet seeping through his cotton t-shirt. He saw, from the corner of his eye, a strand of dark hair over his shoulder. Too long. Not his. He felt a selfish gratitude that she was with him, still.

He'd heard that a man's entire life flashed before his eyes the instant before he died. He hoped that wasn't true.

A worn leather boot crushed the grass before his face. He heard the _click_ of a chambered round. His murderer coughed. He felt the barrel of a gun—_One of his girls?_—against his hair, just behind his ear. The metal was hot; the weapon must have been in the sun a decent spell. This _was_ a warm day. Beautiful. Peaceful.

The bullet shattered his skull. His brain did not register it, nor did it register the passage of time, nor the feeling of intense pain. It did not sense at all. It offered up a memory.

ii.  
He was lifting in the bay. She was sitting on the stairs—in the exact spot he'd been left when Simon drugged him during that job for Niska. He was trying to ignore her, but she was counting his reps; every ten, she'd call the new number.

He wanted her away from him—her presence was discomfiting.

The bay was bright and shadowy. He didn't notice that River'd stopped counting until his arms suddenly gave out. As he flinched in anticipation, he wished Book were alive.

The bar didn't crash onto his chest. He opened his eyes to big brown orbs. Her hands held the bar an inch from his shirt; her hair was a centimeter from brushing his face, her stomach just behind his head.

He began to panic. She was more dangerous than Reavers and a damn sight more handsome.

"Gorgeous," she said, wrinkling her nose. "Beautiful. Prettier. _This_ is handsome." The bar returned to its cradle, her hands rested flat on his chest.

He grunted. He never could say the right thing; she was a reader. She would know what he was thinking, feeling, even if he was unsure.

"I would still like to hear you say it. When you _are_ sure." And she disappeared into the shadows.

iii.  
It was late at night. He'd struggled for months since the bay. She sat on the bridge, peacefully watching the stars.

"They are so quiet when they sing," she said as he stepped across the threshold.

Jayne paused. It was all manner of disquieting, the way she could see things without looking. "What's it sound like, then?" he asked.

She stared through the window. "Life. Passion. Fire. Death. Everything in an instant and a roaring calm."

She turned in the chair: looked at him, met his pained blue eyes. "I haven't forgotten Ariel. I know the things you wish you could erase. I have my own. We two will not have eternal sunshine: will never have spotless minds."

He met her wry grin with one of his own.

"We can have _this_, though. We can have the stars, the starsong. I can teach you to hear it, too, if you ask. I can teach you to swim the silence," she finished in a whisper, shyly dropping her big brown eyes to his chest.

He didn't remember crossing the distance between them. He lifted her chin and kissed her softly on the cheek. "Teach me. Please. I'll drown if you don't." And it was his turn to look uneasy. She did something to him: slowed him down, made his words pretty like hers, like _her_.

She looked up, then, and the movement drew his gaze to hers. She nodded slowly and stood. Jayne felt too big, clumsy and awkward, as he waited for her next move. She slid her small hand into his large one and guided him into the chair she'd vacated.

He tensed when she curled into his lap. His large form cradled her smaller body and he gripped the chair's armrests, unsure of her expectations. She leaned her head against his left pectoral, over his heartbeat. She took his hands in hers and rested them on her stomach.

They watched, listened, swam the stars together for hours. Jayne felt River breathe, felt her tense before shifting a leg or an arm ever so slightly. When the novelty faded and she relaxed into the nearness, he tried to focus on the stars and their song. It was a moment to last an eternity.


End file.
